Tears of the Night

The youngest son of Elrond had always relived things in his dreams. His mindset was so similar to that of his father’s that it seemed a foregone conclusion. As he had grown older, Elrond had instructed Elrohir on how he could control his active mind and what he saw when he dreamed. And in the wake of what he had seen since his majority, Elrohir had found it to be an extremely useful skill.

But now, as he grew weaker and weaker of his wounds, he found also that his control over his thoughts was also slipping.

And so, he dreamed of something he longed with all of his being to forget…


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The rain came down in slow, almost gentle, waves. It pattered against the soggy wooden docks, filling the despairing silence with a small rhythmic sound that few truly took note of.

Elrohir noticed it. Or rather, he noticed the rain hitting his face like ice droplets, and yet still poorly hiding the tears that slid slowly down his face. The tingling of his skin against the cold drizzle was perhaps the only sensation he permitted himself to feel at the moment as he watched the almost unholy tableau unfold before his eyes.

She was leaving.

The ship sat prepared and waiting just a few steps away. The Lord of the Havens already stood aboard the vessel, quietly giving orders to several of the crew. Even the mariners appeared loathe to break through the silence that endured.

He turned his gaze back to the people before them. His brother, sister, father, grandmother, and grandfather all stood gathered around his mother, clinging to her or covering her face in kisses or murmuring soft sweet words to her.

He vaguely wondered if it was the rain that caused his eyes to burn, or his own hot tears. But it was the knowledge within his own mind that burned far more than any moisture against his orbs.

She was leaving.

Agony ripped through him, causing his body to shudder. He longed to fling himself at her feet, clasp her hands and cover them with kisses. He wished to beg her not to leave him, their family. They needed her. How could she leave them?

But he knew it would do no good. The fear that clouded her heart, even when her sons, husband, and father all stood ready to protect her from all, still remained ever present, waiting to pounce.

So she decided to leave. To seek for the lands of the blesséd where, according to many, all wounds could find healing. What could not be found in the lands of Ennor, she sought for in Aman.

Elrohir watched without moving as slowly, his family parted to the sides of his vision, leaving him with a clear view of his mother. Her silver locks had been, mostly, bound up in a crown of braids. But still, two sections hung down around her ears, framing her face. He knew she had prepared her hair in such a manner to hide the scar that adorned her face from her earlobe to her jaw.

He wanted, in that moment, to do nothing more than fling himself into her arms, to drink in the sensations of her stroking his hair, of her steady breathing. He wanted to memorize everything about her, so that he could never forget.

Indeed, it appeared that was her wish as well, for she held out a trembling hand to him, silently bidding him to come closer.

But to his surprise, and those around him, he did not. For a brief moment, he stood there and stared at her. She was leaving. Nothing could ever change that. And there was a large chance he would never see her again.

A new emotion shot through his heart. Anger. She was leaving.

Elrohir clenched his jaw, feeling his anger and resentment wash over him. He knew from the flash of pain that flew across her pale face that she knew and saw his emotions, but he had neither the strength nor the will to smooth over his expression.

Pointedly ignoring her outstretched hand, he bowed formally and said coldly, “Farewell, my lady. May you find that which you seek in the lands of the blessed.”

He turned and left the docks then, unable to endure the silver tears that had begun to slide down her cheeks. He walked quickly, but with no particular destination in mind. Somehow, his feet took him to the beach near the docks.

He stopped when he reached the shoreline, giving him a clear view of the white ship that was currently pulling away from the docks.

As the vessel slipped out of the harbor, Elrohir felt all of his strength slip from his body. Sinking to his knees in the wet sand, he shuddered and attempted to control his rapid breathing.

Faintly, he felt arms wrap around him and two bodies pressed against his. Clinging tightly to his brother and sister, he whispered in a choked, desolate voice, “She’s gone… she left… I… Nana…”

A small hand stroked his hair and he heard Arwen say in a soothing tone, “It will be alright, brother. Shh…”

Collapsing entirely into her embrace, Elrohir sobbed into her breast. “Nana,” he wailed, buckling beneath his overwhelming grief.

He wanted to die. For the first time, he wanted nothing more than to forsake life and enter the Halls of Waiting. At least then he could rejoin her when he was released. The pain he was feeling now was too much.

“Nana…” he whimpered, closing his eyes.

He wanted to die.

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